Wendy maid (sic) me do it…..

Yesterday morning I was at the letter box, waiting for my porn and nickers delivery. Well my jocks turned up; the porn didn’t, but my AMEX bill did and lo and behold I have been billed for the porn: $97.00……….. Ok so I bulk buy.
I spent the day speculating and finishing the tiling on the plunge pool….. and you ain’t heard the last of it because I have yet to grout the tiles, but for now I have a black jockstrap to wear under my paper over-alls. I am not photographing the over-alls as requested by some-one who is currently stalking me…. but I at least note that their taste is not to be faulted…. you have to imagine a diaphanous harem pants effect with what from the back looks like it has an internal steel superstructure. Yes you’ve got it: I look like I am wearing a Beijing olympic birdsnest stadium around my waist area, covered by a smog of paper pulpery.

I phoned my bespoke porn dealer and had a very interesting phone call with a Tammie (I don’t want to go into too much detail as some of you have already read the gob-smackingly revealing detail on my AO blog). But we had a loverly chat about Darwin weather.

Spleen vent time: my day was so quiet I have little to report … take my advice and flick to the video then shoot out to Starbucks for skinnychino with a half lemon twist.

I spent a little of the morning reading my local newspaper….The Sunshine Coast Daily humourously referred (or as they would say, refurred) to as the Sunshine Coast Doily, for several reasons I imagine: It’s size, the holes in its reporting and the only practical use it has would be as a doily in your kitty litter tray….. even then the cat may prefer to crap elsewhere. It is hard to imagine the god awfulness of this paper which claims to be the 2007 PANPA AUSTRALIAN NEWSPAPER OF THE YEAR, this award I imagine is one of those chi-chi backslapping, air kissing (moue,moue) awards given by your mum to her favorite daughter. But it is always good for a laugh. Yesterday it had a headline in which the word purchases was spelled as purches. Never-the-less it sails on unsinkable (quick grab that iceberg). No point in contacting the editor, he just uses his position to rubbish you in the next days ‘doily’, with a harangue about how ‘english is an evolving language’ it is a bit like saying salmonella doesn’t effect the flavour of food ….. I stupidly once wrote a letter to him (if indeed there is a ‘him’ behind the scenes at the printery ….. bit like the wizard in the Wizard of Oz is how I imagine the ‘news room’) and was flayed alive. They had printed a photograph of a dear old lady who had just achieved the ripe old age of 100, with a bold heading ‘CENTURION CELEBRATES’… which by my calculation would have made her at least 1800 years old…

It is a paper like toilet is a paper, always advertising its much vaunted ‘lift outs’ which are just advertising puffery and when removed from the newpaper itself makes it as transparent as disposable over-alls. Well I shan’t keep banging on about it otherwise I will write more words in todays blog than appeared, outside advertising, in todays edition.

In the other paper I take there was an interesting court report about a guy who had ruined his step daughter and daughters life, by forcing them to have sex with him…… His excuse? ‘he claimed he was possessed by a spirit called Wendy’. This I like even more than the Bart Simpson excuse. When caught with my pants off in future I’m going for the ‘Ethel made me do it’ …. ba boom tish!!!!

I had a wine delivery so I had to tuck in to see that it hadn’t been corked. MBH (my better half ) said ‘it’s screw top’….. so????, and I settled down to be terminally depressed by ‘the game’ : state of origin. oh dear the Maroons should be paraded through the street naked….. my street, three times daily, and forced to stand and be photographed nude outside my bedroom…… enough said!!!!!!

My stars said an appliance would leak. The only appliance that I detected a leak from was my own personal plumbing.

My very lucky colour was brown… hey what is it with all this drabness? ……

I slept well but kept having this nightmare that Queensland lost the football, or the will to live. But today? you ask, how is today going?….. well not too flash. I suffered a minor head injury (don’t worry, you are too kind, it didn’t alter my brains functioning) and as being a believer in ‘erbs I cut a tentacle off an aloe vera plant, skinned it, and smeared it on my forehead…. I live in fear of scars, even more fear than that of social ridicule. I went out to collect a box of decking screws and kept wondering why everyone kept staring at me just above the eyes, or worse looking as if they were going to flee. When I arrived home I found that the sun had set the aloe vera a fluorescent yellow, so I look like I had been crapped on by a low flying Mardi Gras; and a big one at that. I think I am losing the will to live.

Taz, Monroe & tiling without drugs…….and no sex to speak of.

Funny day. My mouse went down.
Suddenly my computer froze… well not completely the pointy thing would move, but none of my applications would open, those open wouldn’t close… and this was just after I had visited a fellow blogger, and co-incidentally down-loaded some porn. ‘Intercourse‘ I said, ‘Shirley it couldn’t be viral? I’m on a mac for godssake‘. I was starting to think, that is the last time I download porn: ‘please god if I never do it again, make my computer come good’.
I zapped the PRAM, and fscksy-d the disk. Yeah that kind of language impresses me too, especially if whispered by a naked, hairsuit hunk behind me.
Of course after about 2 hours of fritzing with the system I thought ‘I wonder if the batteries have gone flat in my wireless mouse?’ Guess what? and this has only happened 3 times before so there goes that theory that I am a quick learner.

As soon as I was back and thrashing the keyboard I got a very sick comment on my ADULTS ONLY blog… I can only assume that a homophobic, feminist right wing cabal have got me in their sights. I thought I don’t have to put up with this I’ll go back and update my GENERAL rating blog… so here I am and I have to say there are more important things in life than being concerned by a sicko or three. god I live amongst them up here on shangri-la mountain.

Well there is the pivotal point in history being acted out at the local surf club. Apparently the last thing that you want to see when you are sitting down to a serve of barramundi spritzed with a beetroot coolie, is some nubile youth’s bum crack…. my god you must have noticed the trend to wearing shorts or jeans lowered to the point where you could tap dance on your own crutch?? Well physics being what it is, means, ‘crutch at ground level means arse on display. The local surf club aint having any of it so if we see your bum crack (builder bum as it used to be called) you are going to be removed from the premises.

Wow glad these people have their priorities straight. Could I mention homelessness, not to mention Burma (cyclone) China (earthquake) etc…. I haven’t even mentioned the low state of my wine cellar and where has my dealer got to?…. and these people are going troppo over arse crack exposure. It is a surf club and if anyone has ever seen a long boat race you would notice how your average surf life saver suck his speedos up his arse so they don’t get rayon burn on the seat while rowing…. so what are these people saying ‘god I didn’t know arses existed?’ , get real there is only one person on the planet that doesn’t have an arse and she is the queen of oz. I have to tell you when I am eating at my local surf club I am more concerned with how many prawns I got in the ‘SURF & TURF’ than back valley alert!!!.
FLASHBACK:
An artist ex-friend who I was posing for suggested the tanline ruined the over-all gorgeousity of my pose… so I belted down to the local beach, to do an all over tan… I was hidden away in the dunes, but never the less the cops came through the jungle slashing with their machettes ( I may exagerate… maybe it was only capsicum spray and TAZER) and I was booked for will-full exposure: it makes one feel like a pervert, and I am feeling like one right now!!. The afore-mentioned surf club is just down the way… be very afeared of visiting Coolum: loverly place but have no reason to get your private parts out of your taffeta otherwise you are going to be exposed.

The much vaunted plunge pool progresses. I mixed the tiling adhesive, I was halfway into the disposable paper overalls, when the neighbors burglar alarm went off. SUGUE: I am the only trusted person at the Paris Point of the street to be allowed to sort this problem…. my god if you saw the contents of the other neighbors garbage bins you wouldn’t sleep at night …..all home brand product and empty cheap cask wine. Well the casks are always empty, don’t ask me how I know: it’s a skill.

So I belt up there only to notice there are patches of pubic hair showing up on the overalls. GOSSAMER WARNING…. never go down sun wearing disposable overalls with nothing underneath. If there was a burglar he was going to take flight at the sight of me shimmering in the sun, or I was going to get out of the tiling. So the situation is, tile adhesive setting off in bucket , me in flagranto… belting up the boulevard (well it is at the point I live: street above and below). It is the cats, Taz (my neighbors) and Monroe (the dortas) have had some tiff and been waving semaphore battons at the motion detectors… I sort them out, check that the wine cellar is intact, I discovered one two bottles of bubbly had been drunk by the felines, and come home to a bucket of quickly setting adhesive; because as you would imagine when you are almost totally in garment divestiture mode, you meet everyone on the street. Thank god they didn’t see my bum crack, or if they did, weren’t on the committee of the local surf club.
Stars say my lucky colour is TAN …….oh yeah (I’ve got a $75 fine that says it isn’t)

The tiling looks real good, thanks for asking.
PS I found a roach near the plunge pool so any typos are….thingy. No drugs??? OK so I lie!!

externally yours……….

The front of my house is actually the back. From the streetside at ‘Paris point’ it appears to be below ground level over much of its frontage… you enter through a lattice gate walk about 12 meters along the verandah, hang left onto the front verandah and suddenly you are way up in the air, about 8 meters above ground level which is pitching downwards at about a 40 degree angle. From the verandah you can see layer after layer of hills into the distance to the escarpment. Of an evening as the sun goes down it is very theatrical: a series of scrims of successive levels of pale pink shadow…. and of the morning, now as we head into winter there are layers of fog and mist hanging in the valleys and over the river. At moments it can be reminiscent of the jungle near the Iguassu falls, if there was in fact falling water, hummingbirds, toucans and I had taken enough chems.
I could/should go just take a pic and save my fingers…. hands-up those who want to see a picture of my view or house?

Somewhere on the edge of this vision yesterday appeared a truck with a traxcavator which started knocking down the trees on the edge of the forest or jungle if we have all taken our medication (see above if you are too out of it)….. a new neighbor is about to build. This brings out in me multicotomy of feelings. I am looking forward to having new neighbors…. fer godsake I have already worn out the old ones, they pretend to be weeding the roadway when I whoosh past in the car, though I have to say, as people age the avoirdupois tends to hit the arse area, so bending they tend to look like all day suckers….. ‘does my arse look big in this street?’…… ‘you aint whistling dixie with that thing’ . There have been times when I have thought …’I don’t remember a drive-in screen in the street’. So you got the picture? It is the sort of street where time stands still. If anyone says jokingly ‘when was the last time you saw a beehive hairdo?’ I could honestly say ‘when I was out jogging this morning’ …. it is sort of like a modern day Hobart without the batik and cheezecloth.

Anyway I don’t know why I piss them off…hey I am lovable, but I am prepared to admit it can’t be easy living near a pair of poofters, with all the impeccable taste and brutal honesty that entails.

So back to yesterday… It isn’t the thought of a new house appearing in my view that makes me apprehensive, it is the building process. It has just quietened down since the ‘lederhosen brigade’ across the street have finished their house and moved in (apparently he plays brass… I misheard and thought it was bras. How noisy can that be I thought once he gets the object off his wife)…..and now I realize we are up for 5-6 months of construction down by our lilly pond.

Having a house built near to you is like riding a bike, you never forget… the 7am starts which sneak back to 6am so the ‘chippies’ can fuck off to surf as soon as there is the sign of a decent off-shore break. I use the word ‘fuck’ because soon that will be every second word we hear float up towards the house…. that is if we can hear it over the other delights of builder/labourers: they all arrive in different hotted up utilities throw open the drivers door, crank the volume up on the ‘car radio’ to max volume and go to work. That there could be say 6 utes each with its radio tuned to a different ’station’ I don’t get… but democracy of selection of radio programmes reigns inviolate.

Oh dogs…… did I mention dogs. Every red blooded builder has to have a dog on the back of his ute; usually of some ugly rottie/boxer/pit bull/mastiff breed, well any of the breeds that drools a bucket of saliva. When the owner arrives the dogs are set free, and they are encouraged to spend the day running rampage through the neighborhood, crapping, digging up gardens, mating with the local mutts, or sometimes the neighbors themselves bending over to weed the street and no real guy would have a dog that can’t keep up a good bark for several hours.
It comes back to me that what I have to look forward too is 6 months of dog rampage, commercial radio (shudder), dog crap (which will add to the Parisian ambience) and fast food boxes blowing through my garden…….. BUT HEY! it aint all downside when the weather warms these same men will not be able to overcome the urge to strip to the minimalist amount of clothing… then I will probably have need to weed the lilly pond.

……………………….With any luck we will be upwind of the port-a-loo.

PS the AO only blog is up…. god I didn’t know how hard being an exhibitionist is.